


for realsies

by NervousRobot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Accidental Spooning, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Bisexual Female Character, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:53:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NervousRobot/pseuds/NervousRobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's lying on her side in the middle of the bed, wiggling her eyebrows in a jokingly seductive manner.</p><p>Allison can’t help but crack up when Lydia tacks on a whispered, “Paint me like one of your French girls, Ally.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	for realsies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fairyforgottentales](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairyforgottentales/gifts).



> a lot of people have read this through for me to validate my sense of being a writer and suggested ideas, and i would like to thank each and every one of them because i probably would have given up on this w/o them
> 
> this was written as an exchange gift to the beautiful [songbyrdwrites](http://www.songbyrdwrites.tumblr.com) and you can find me on tumblr [here!](http://www.deathlycats.tumblr.com) <33

Autumn is just beginning to make its annual change into winter, stubborn leaves finally falling and being swept away by the wind that’s getting colder and colder every day. Halloween’s long gone, along with the remnants of the many sugar rushes that the kids (and their parents) down the street had been battling.

It’s only been a few months since Lydia and Allison had gotten an apartment together; splitting the rent would be far less expensive that living in a dorm room, they had reasoned with one another. The apartment is still surprisingly clean, which is mostly due to Lydia’s annoyed huffing whenever Allison leaves something as simple as a single piece of clothing lying on the couch, coupled with Allison’s stress cleaning.

It’s the time of year that has both girls’ ecstatic parents calling more and more, demanding information on their year and what they’re planning to do for the upcoming holiday. Allison’s dad calls far more than both her own and Lydia's mother combined, and he seems set on making sure Allison is planning on visiting for the holidays. It isn’t until he’s come around to asking about whether or not she’s gotten any new boyfriends, because she ‘always seemed to have a boy “on a leash”, as her dad had put it, that she’d come back around to old habits of skillfully changing topics.

“You sure you have no one to bring home? Especially a friend?” His voice sounds gravelly and hopeful, yet slightly reserved

Allison huffs in annoyance. “No, Dad. I’ve told you a million times before, and I really shouldn’t have to tell you again!” Her words come off a little more bitter than she had meant, but her dad probably hasn’t even noticed.

“Just hoping, Ally. I’m just surprised, that’s all. All throughout your high school years you brought a few guys and girls over for the holidays." He pauses, and his tone takes a turn and becomes a little more serious, "But, I know you might want a break since what happened with Scott, and I get that.” She can basically hear his shrug of defeat, but doesn’t take it as a win. She knows next week, he’ll call again with the same argument. It’s been going on for a while now, and she’s actually started to reach a brand new level of annoyance.

\--

Allison rolls over with a soft, tired groan and grabs her ringing phone off of her side table, sliding her thumb over the screen.

“Hello?” She asks, her voice still groggy from the sleep she’d been pulled from, blinking her eyes out of their haziness.

“Allison?”

She lets out another annoyed groan, sits up on her bed, and checks her clock, careful to not make too much noise and wake up her roommate.

“Dad. It’s not even 10; what do you want?” She’s too exhausted, too frustrated at her dad’s failure at taking no for an answer, too hazy to think straight. She runs a hand over her face.

“Allison, hey. Just wanted to talk about your visit for a sec.” His small, short laugh flows from her cell, and she flops back onto her bed, in a starfish position, save for the hand that’s holding her phone to her ear.

She’s not even listening. He’s rambling on and on about a topic she’s heard too much of already. She interrupts his run-on sentences.

“Dad. Dad, hey-. Dad!” She spares a quick glance behind her to Lydia’s sleeping quarters to make sure she hadn’t woken her accidentally.

“What?”

“I have a date. It’s okay, whatever. Can I go back to sleep now?” She’s only faintly aware of the hole she’s digging for herself in her half-asleep state.

“Oh. What? Really? Wait, who?”

She cuts him short once again. “I’ll call you later. I’m gonna go, okay?”

“Allison! No, really. Who are they? You can’t just say ‘I’m bringing a date’ and not even say who it is! Allison--” That’s when she promptly hangs up and drifts away, deciding to take care of this mess later.

\--

Allison has no other ideas. None. No clever plans, no killer thoughts, nothing. Absolutely nothing.

She has no idea how to get a boyfriend in 4 days.

Allison has called Scott, texted Stiles, and persuaded Lydia to contact Isaac and even Jackson, but none were available to even pretend to be with her. Not that it’d work, anyway; her father already knew all of them and wouldn’t approve, so it was destined to be a mess. And there was no way in hell Allison could pick up a random guy and prepare him well enough. She had already implied her date had been with her for a while, and 3 days was not enough time for that.

The only possible solution she comes up with is one she doesn’t actually consider until all else has failed.

\--

“You want me to what?” Lydia’s shrill voice rings out, filled with attitude and authority.

“It’s only for a few days! I just kind of told my dad that I have a date? And no one else is available? And you kind of might be my only hope?” Her voice sounds hopeful, mixed with just a tinge of guilt. Allison’s playing with her hands, a habit of nervousness she had developed back in high school.

Lydia sighs and closes her eyes for a few seconds, letting the air be filled with a beat of silence. “Just--Just tell me what I need to do.”

Allison immediately brightens, pumps her fist in the air, and grins. “Wait, really? Oh my god. Really? Yes!”

The only real reaction Lydia gives is when she widens her eyes a little when Allison jumps forward enthusiastically and embraces her in a tight hug.

When Allison is done celebrating, Lydia simply raises her eyebrows and says, “So. How exactly are we supposed to be pulling this off?”

\--

The drive down to California is long and tiring. The two girls are discussing how things will probably work out for most of the time, until Lydia sighs, turns the radio's volume up, and says, "I'm exhausted," and Allison just nods in response.

It takes more than 5 hours to get to the Argent's home, and it isn't really until then that Allison feels butterflies in her stomach. Lydia, most likely from her endless years of best-friend-experience, somehow manages to notice, and in return, places a comforting hand on Allison's arm as she's looking at the Argent's home from inside the car like a deer in headlights.

"Are you sure this is going to work? I mean, what if they see right through it? You know, my mom's pretty intuitive, and-" Her voice dies down at the look Lydia's giving her.

"It was your idea in the first place, and don't undermine my acting abilities, Ally. I'll make it work."

Allison's demeanor seems to have lightened up at Lydia's snappy pep talk, and she gives her best friend a determined nod and jumps out of the car. As she and Lydia are slowly walking up toward the front door, Allison plays with the end of the scarf that's she's wearing--one that Lydia had given her last Christmas. It's insanely soft and it's surprisingly calming with its nice colors.

Allison takes a deep breath, rushes forward, and rings the doorbell before she has the chance to hesitate again. As the soft sound of rushing footsteps–undoubtedly her mother's–come closer and closer, Lydia takes Allison's hand in her own for good measure. Allison's face flashes into a look of surprise for a split second, before she relaxes again and tightens her grip on Lydia's hand in a fit of nervousness. Allison shrugs and gives an innocent smile at the other's raised eyebrows at her own actions just as the front door swings open.

And, suddenly, there's a very cheerful looking redhead grinning at them, and as soon as the door's fully opened, she's talking.

"Oh! You're early! This is fantastic, your father started dinner, so I hope you're hungry, Allison and," she squints a little, and her confusion is only showing slightly on her face, "Lydia?" She turns slightly to her daughter with a face that only Allison could decipher as disappointment, it's only there for a second, and quickly changes into one of polite happiness, before addressing her. "Oh, your father and I were under the impression that you were going to bring your date," her voice rising in pitch at the end as if it's something for the two girls to answer. Neither Allison nor Lydia are sure if its meant to be a question or a statement.

Allison glances to Lydia before answering, her excited façade wavering into one of doubt for a split second, then it fades, and she cheerfully says, "Well, Lydia is kind of my date??"

And that's when she comes to the revelation that she actually gave very little thought to how her family would react to her bringing a girl home. Allison knows that her parents are very accepting, and they definitely didn't have any problems with Danny, but she has yet to tell them she likes both girls and guys in that way, so she's nervous because this is basically coming out, right? Even if it is fake, it's still the same concept, she figures, and she looks up to her mother with an expectant look, while Lydia is still standing beside her and watching the show with a small smile.

Victoria Argent's lips part slightly, her eyebrows riding up, until she gives a simple, "Oh, alrighty then. Come on in, it must be freezing out there!" and steps aside to let the two girls in.

Lydia shoots Allison a look of triumph and walks inside, pulling the other in behind her, their hands still intertwined.

\--

Allison's dad rarely cooks, which is mainly because there are very few things he can make that are actually edible and don't always come out with nearly the same stench as Jackson's old lacrosse shorts. Of course, he either doesn't know that or he doesn't care, because he uses the fact that he rarely cooks as an excuse to cook for nearly every special occasion.

It's nothing special, not a gigantic feast for only the visit of the Argents’ only daughter, just a nice family dinner. Which everyone is grateful for, being spared Chris' glorious cooking skills.

Dinner is interesting, to say the least. The group is chatting over the dinner Allison's dad has prepared-- spaghetti and meatballs, and it's not even that bad. Allison even gives him a side-hug for it and everything afterwards.

Allison's nervous for nearly the entire dinner, and Lydia either covers her nervousness up well, or she’s seriously not nervous at all.. She looks like she's got everything under control, but Allison figures that it's just her default expression. Allison carefully sidesteps a few of her parent's questions about what she's planning for the future, and a wave of relief floods over her when they turn their attention to Lydia. Victoria's secretly extracting information from Lydia, in the way spies in those overdone action movies do, asking simple questions and coaxing extra information out of her target without her even knowing. Allison knows, though. She has done this to every single person Allison had ever brought home, whether she knows them already (in Lydia's case) or not (in Scott's).

Chris, on the other hand, really just jumps right into the good cop/bad cop stereotype, except with good cop and bad cop replaced with a single overprotective father that has a history of scaring a few of his daughter's past dates away. He's basically firing questions left and right, until his wife shoots him a look and asks Lydia simple questions with her motherly voice.

They're all evil.

Before the other two adults have a chance to either A: Embarrass Allison with horrible, horrible stories or B: Ask stereotypical couple questions, Allison spares Lydia a glance before pushing her chair back and saying, "Hey, dinner was great! Thanks, Dad, but I think we're gonna go do," she catches Lydia's suggestive eyebrow raise, and Allison guesses that her parents have as well, "some girl stuff, okay?" Without further confirmation, she grabs Lydia's hand and tugs her out of the kitchen and into her own room, leaving the door halfway open at her father's shout of, "Door open!"

Lydia is sitting on her bed and looking around Allison's room, her arms outstretched behind her.

"You know, you've been here before," Allison comments on Lydia's obvious interest of her room.

Lydia sighs and pats the bed beside her in a silent gesture of comfort, and Allison complies and sits beside her best friend. Lydia looks at Allison silently, her head turned toward the girl, and she looks like she's trying to say something. Allison's sitting shoulder to shoulder with Lydia, and she's staring right back at Lydia's face, the same as Lydia is doing to her.

The moment is strangely intimate, and even Allison can feel the heat beginning to bloom in her cheeks. Allison's smiling a quiet smile that slowly turns into a grin when she gives Lydia a simple, "What?"

Lydia stretches her legs out, turns her head away from the other and avoids the question. Instead, she lets a beat of silence pass before she says, "Your parents are scarier than I originally thought." She's looking down in an insanely cute way, a way that Allison would be all over if they were really dating.

The older of the two laughs once again and looks at her hands for a second before answering, then looks up. "Yeah, sorry about them. I probably should've warned you that they're like that."

This time, Lydia gives a short laugh of her own. "It's okay, I mean, it wasn't even that bad."

Allison whips her head around to look back at Lydia. "Are you serious? They interrogated you more than the police did Stiles when he was caught messing around with their evidence!"

She shrugs in response, and lets her eyes meet Allison's. "Well, he is kind of the sheriff's son, y'know." She smiles when she says it, giving Allison some of her own grade-A eyebrow raise--the kind that's only reserved for certain special people.

\---

Lydia sleeps in the guest bedroom that hasn't been used in ages, but it's okay. Allison's dad is still vaguely suspicious, and Lydia plans to up the ante with Allison whenever she has the chance. They're only supposed to stay for a few days, and she figures that throwing in a few rough innuendos when she's alone with the other is enough to keep her from getting too anxious. If Lydia's completely honest with herself, she's pretty nervous as well. She's come to terms with some of her occasional not-so-straight feelings toward her best friend, the kind that saying 'no homo' probably wouldn't fix. It's actually starting to become a problem, what with her harboring a growing thing for her straight-as-an-arrow (ha) best friend, while also in a fake relationship with her.

Life is hard.

\--

Allison's just beginning sit up on her bed and blink the sleep out of her eyes when there's a loud knock on her bedroom door, and then there's suddenly a fully dressed redhead standing in her room.

Allison groans and flops back down, hands running down her face.

"How are you up this early? I'm not even sure that's possible."

In response, Lydia simply says, "Ally, it's like, 10. C'mon and get ready, there's no way in hell I'm going near your parents without any backup," and then she swiftly turns on her heel and walks back out, leaving Allison still in her early morning haze, the door clicking softly shut behind her.

\--

It's really not long until Allison joins Lydia in the kitchen, where she's arranging a scattered array of ingredients with the look on her face and the glint in her eyes that suggests that she has a plan. Allison looks from the ingredients to Lydia, back to the ingredients, and then to Lydia again. Lydia just smirks, almost challenging Allison to figure it out.

"Are you," pause, "baking?"

Lydia scoffs, "Oh come on, of course not," 

Relief begins to flood Allison. No baking, no mess, no trouble, right? The only thing is that Lydia's actually not done talking.

Lydia leans over to her with a little mischievous grin and points a single finger at the other. "You are."

Allison throws her arms in the air with a small groan because she's tired and she's a lazy college student that can't handle the amount of work it takes to make food and sustain life.

She does it anyways. Mostly because Lydia threatens to ask her dad to make the pancakes, and everyone knows that's way worse than having to make the pancakes herself.

And, Lydia's face lights up when she gives in, and the redhead blames it on the fact that she's heard good things, "Very, very good things, Allison, so you'd better not let me down!!", about her ability to prepare breakfast, so that's a plus, too.

\--

In the process of making way too many pancakes for four people, there's a lot of touching. Lydia hangs around, and she claims she wants to "see the magic happen". Lydia doesn't really help at all except for an easy distraction and she occasionally hands Allison the ingredients. Allison finds their arms brushing, and gets some sort of warm feeling in her stomach when Lydia leans over her shoulder at a strange position to check on the process. She does it multiple times, even though it should be easy to just look around Allison, but hey, she’s not complaining. The two talk on and on, and it makes the work--which isn’t even bad in the first place--seem a lot easier, and the time flies by. Not long after Allison and Lydia had gotten out all of the ingredients needed, Allison finishes her duty as the Empress of All Things Breakfast-y, and leaves the job of setting the table to Lydia.

When Allison reenters the dining room with her two parents in tow, she and Lydia high-five on their spectacular ability to prepare a meal.

The breakfast conversation is laid back, compared to the previous night's interrogation, and both Allison and Lydia are far less nervous. The conversation flows easily between the four of them, quickly changing from Chris' rants about his annoying coworker to Victoria's talk of how quiet the house has been without Allison occupying it. Lydia is working on leaving subtle hints of an actual relationship, ever so slowly inching closer to Allison, throwing in a dash of small smiles and knocking her and Allison's shoulders together whenever Chris supplies them with a horrible joke he had read earlier that week.

The first time the topic comes up, Allison can barely understand what Chris is talking about. The hand that’s ever so slowly moving its way from her knee to her thigh is too much of a distraction. Allison just smiles and nods in response, and she’s internally wondering what Lydia’s doing. The parents can’t see the actions she’s making, so what point is she trying to make? When the hand doesn’t go away and Allison is tired of trying to ignore it because it’s impossible and it makes her feel nervous for seemingly no reason, she uses her left hand to grab Lydia’s right, and instead intertwines their fingers. The older Argents happen to notice this move, and smile to themselves.

The second time the topic comes up, Allison is a bit more in control. This time, she panics because how are they supposed to pull this off? A distant cousin of hers, Rod, she thinks, happens to be getting married soon, and since her mother has a thing for keeping in touch with family, she wants Lydia to attend with Allison.

\--

It’s not that late, but Allison is exhausted. She cannot deal with this right now, and everyone even remotely close to her knows that she’s not the best at making decisions when tired. Lydia is in Allison’s room; the two had planned to meet up privately and talk about the whole wedding schtick previously.

“Have I even managed to mention what a coincidence this is?? That in the time we’re here, there happens to be a wedding?! Do you even know how probable this is? How else are we supposed to up the ante for 50 relatives to believe this other than just going for the gold and making out in front of everyone?” Lydia drones on and on uncharacteristically, but Allison assumes she doesn’t do well with weddings.

They’re standing beside her bed, speaking in loud whispers. “Look, it can’t be that bad, right?” She waves her hands around a little, “We can just keep doing what we’re doing, y’know? We could think up some couple stories, throw in a little more PDA, it shouldn’t be that hard, right?”

Lydia’s eyebrows narrows, and it’s silent while she thinks it over. Allison fills with a feeling of triumph when the other hums and nods. “I guess, I can see how that could work…” Lydia says quietly, and Allison beams.

“See? It’s totally okay, nothing to worry about.” Allison nods reassuringly.

\--

The wedding is in a week, right before the girls have to head back to their apartment, and things fall back into their old regime. Life goes on, the group typically eats breakfast together, Victoria even cracking a few jokes, and Allison finding a way to subtly squeeze some sort of anecdote about her and Lydia into the conversation. Every once in a while, Lydia finds a way to give Allison a special grin when she knows the others are watching, or even lean on the other’s shoulders when the group’s watching a movie at night. No one speaks up on it, but Victoria and Chris share their private smiles with one another. It works, and a few times, Lydia’s game almost convinces even Allison. She continues to give Allison signs of affection when no one’s looking, and when she doesn’t respond to Allison’s quizzical looks, Allison just assumes Lydia knows what she’s doing and lets it slide.

Allison rubs her hands together, and with each hot breath she blows on them, a puff of air shows itself in the cold air of the rink. Lydia had brought up the topic of ice skating, along with memories of when the gang as a whole would go to the Chiller each Friday night and skate together. This, of course, had concluded with an idea blossoming in her parents’ minds, and not long after the conversation had ended, they had coerced her into complying with Lydia’s icy demands.

It’s the middle of the day, and almost no one is occupying the rink; the teens that had been skating around half an hour ago are probably somewhere more discreet at this time, leaving Allison and Lydia alone. The older Argents had left early, going on about how they’re both too old to mess around with slippery surfaces, and their mostly-joking requests for the two girls to stay safe, which were easily interpreted in more ways than one. Lydia, having been a part of a successful ice skating team in high school, is already experienced and easily glides out onto the ice, the familiar feeling almost comforting. Allison, though, isn’t so experienced. Sure, she can skate around without managing to fall on the ice, but she sure as hell can’t keep up with Lydia and her rambunctious amount of spins and figure eights. Allison waits until Lydia seems to get all of her extra energy out before somewhat hesitantly making her way to the now stationary redhead.

She gives a short laugh and latches on to Lydia, not trusting her own skating skills to keep her upright, “You done?”

Lydia shows the other a smile and a curt nod, “Yeah, I didn’t really mean to just leave you there like that? I just… I haven’t been out here in a while, y’know? It’s like I’m suddenly in my element,” she finishes the sentence with an excited glint in her eye, and she moves Allison’s grabby hands from her shoulders into her own. “C’mon, it’s not that hard,”

Lydia begins to slowly skate backwards, facing Allison, with an air of expertise about her. It goes well, for a few seconds, at least, before Allison’s skates catch on a dip in the ice, and she falls forward, her arms instantly grabbing onto anything that they can to keep her upright, which happens to be Lydia. Thankfully, they both manage to stay on their feet, the only problem is that Allison’s arms have somehow made their way around Lydia’s shoulders, and Lydia’s hands have miraculously found their way to Allison’s biceps.

The two still for nearly a minute, both of their cheeks tinted pink from either the cold or the embarrassment, or both combined. It’s Allison that breaks the silence, pulling her arms away from Lydia and mumbling a few incoherent apologies, and Lydia reciprocates the action by tugging her death grip off of her best friend.

Lydia clears her throat, and watches as Allison looks down at her skates, then back up at her, a grin splitting across her face. A second later, a giggle accompanies it, and soon, both Lydia and Allison are laughing at their clumsiness and make a pact to never tell anyone, especially the boys, about their awkward mishap.

Not long after they continue skating at a mild pace, hands linked for ‘safety purposes’, does the loudspeaker come on, notifying all skaters that it’s closing time. When they both finally exit the rink, they’re all smiles and inside jokes.

\--

The thing Allison hates most about weddings are the old white people and their prying questions, the ones that demand answers that are none of their business. She doesn’t even know most of the guests, so both her and Lydia’s entire life stories aren’t really important, and yet the Benoit twins, who claim to be her first cousins thrice removed, are still set on asking.

Lydia’s just finishing up another old lady’s interrogation when Allison walks up behind her with too many expensive refreshments in tow. Allison manages to catch enough of the conversation that she can easily identify the snark in Lydia’s voice, something not many people can do when she’s trying to be discreet about it. The lady departs upon Allison’s arrival, and as soon as her back is turned, Lydia flips her hair and rolls her eyes while Allison huffs a laugh.

“Same questions?” She asks, smile still painted onto her features.

Lydia gives a nod of exhausted confirmation, “Same questions.”

When Allison practically drags Lydia to the side of the room, she barely puts up any resistance and just gives Allison a look with her her patented ‘what now’ face.

Before long, the two are standing with their backs to the wall, side by side, and Allison leans on Lydia’s shoulder like she’d done countless times before. They’re both tired; waking up at 6 AM to drive for three hours to a boring wedding isn’t exactly a college kid’s dream. A comfortable silence follows, and they both people-watch for a while, gazing upon the interesting variety of guests the wedding has attracted.

“To be honest,” Allison starts, “I haven’t even seen the couple in question yet.”

Lydia hums in agreement before tilting her head in thought and saying, “Do you even know what they look like? Ally, you did say that you’ve only seen him a few times when you were eight.”

“Huh.”

\--

Far, far too much mingling later, the dazzling couple comes out, and not long after, the actual wedding commences. It’s slow and boring and wonderful, and the small crowd of old ladies let out soft ooh’s and aww’s when the newlyweds basically make out in front of everyone to seal the deal. Out of the corner of her eye, Allison can see a group of kids pretending to gag at the kissing couple, because ew, cooties.

The two join Chris and Victoria afterwards, whom are surrounded by a bunch of old people. Allison turns in her seat and chats with her parents, and so does Lydia. They both turn back around to the front of the room when the lights dim a little and there’s a sudden change of music; the soft, boring music the had flown from the string quartet had changed into something a little louder, a little more upbeat. A crowd has gathered around the bride and groom, giving the two a respectable amount of distance, and when Allison stands up out of her seat to see over the small crowd, she sees that they’ve begun the dancing, something that almost always occurs after the officiation, and also something that she has forgotten about completely. Lydia also get out of her seat, assuming a position next to Allison. Nearly every single person around them take the fact that now, the two girls are making a move to go out and dance together.

Allison’s sure her face is a vibrant red as a bunch of them, including her parents, begin to hoot and shoo the girls toward the floor, and Lydia mutters something about peer pressure as she grabs Allison’s hand in her own, and leads the other to the dance floor with an air of authority. Other couples have made their way to the floor by this time, so not all of the attention is on them, but Allison is still stunned when Lydia whips her around, her long blue dress flapping a little, and suddenly they’re both close.

Like, really, really close.

And Allison’s pretty sure she sees her father take out his phone and holds it up as if he’s going to take a picture, much to her dismay.

Lydia either doesn’t notice, or she pretends not to notice, and wow, she’s good at dancing. Allison hadn’t really even noticed that they’ve started moving, and while her mind is still trying to process the information, her feet act like they know what they’re doing.  
The brunette’s hands manage to find their way to Lydia’s waist once she regains control of her limbs, and in response, Lydia huffs and hooks her arms around Allison’s neck.

Allison’s not really sure how they’re supposed to be dancing, but she learns by example and copies what the other couples are doing: swaying and slowly turning to the beat of the calming music. It’s incredibly boring until Lydia finally speaks up.

As they sway slowly to the sound of a practised quartet, Lydia noticeably holds back all talk about the situation the two are in. Instead, she drones on about what she's noticed, how much her feet hurt, and even how sweet the actual wedding had been. Allison smiles and nods, pitching in with a few words every once in a while. She makes conversation, too, but mainly lets the other dominate the conversation with her snarky attitude.

The slow music suddenly warps into something a little faster, and the girls only change their pace, seemingly content on being on their feet for as long as possible. Even Lydia begins to lose track of the time, lost in the words she and Allison exchange.

When Lydia rests her head on Allison's shoulder, leaning on Allison a little more, Allison can't help but smile.

-

It's late at night when the Argents and Lydia finally make their departure. Allison is no way in hell ready for the 3 hour drive back to Beacon Hills, their estimated time of arrival being nearly 1 AM. Her parents seem to agree, and they must have discussed the matter before everyone had packed into the car.

The elders announce that as old, tired adults, they’ve booked a night at a hotel only half an hour away, to prevent any accidents due to sleepiness.

In the hotel, Victoria and Chris are speaking to the man behind the front desk in quiet, calm tones for a few minutes, before the two greet the girls once again, Chris doing his best to look jovial. When Victoria raises her eyebrows as she hands Allison a keycard after explaining that each couple will stay in their respective room and warning them to ‘be responsible’. Both Lydia and Allison share a look at the elder’s implications, Allison’s face turning a slight pink as she attempts to laugh the joke off.

At least, she assumes it’s a joke.

\--

It's Allison that pushes the door open softly, letting the light of the hallway shine through the doorway, pausing for a second before quickly feeling around the wall for a light switch. The light flashes on, shining bright, and honestly, Allison really shouldn't be surprised.

The room's clean, set up perfectly as almost all hotels are. There is a small, stiff armchair sitting in the corner of the room, accompanying it is a lamp and a small brown coffee table. As Lydia sets her stuff down on the singular dresser that holds a large television, she also turns on the few lamps that illuminate the whole room.

And, there's one bed.

It should've been obvious, the two girls posing as a couple should, without a doubt, be used to sharing beds. Especially girls that live in an apartment together. Hell, Allison has accidentally walked in on Lydia and her ex, Aiden, plenty of times before the two finally broke it off, so why does she feel so nervous about simply sleeping in the same bed as the other?

Allison immediately kicks off her painful flats and makes her way to the bathroom to change into the much comfier casual clothes she had smartly brought. She doesn't take long, and when she comes out of the bathroom wearing a blue long sleeved sweater and a pair of jeans, Lydia's lying on her side in the middle of the bed, wiggling her eyebrows in a jokingly seductive manner.

Allison can’t help but crack up when Lydia tacks on a whispered, “Paint me like one of your French girls, Ally.”

The brunette throws in her own eyebrow waggling, though it may not be as glorious as Lydia’s as she makes her way to the bed. Lydia is still in her wedding clothes, not having thought to bring casual wear for the long ride home. She rolls off of her side and onto her back, eyes still glued to Allison’s approaching figure. Allison pulls on the covers before crawling into bed, the covers tucked into the sides and Lydia’s body making the deed harder than expected. When Allison frees her side, Lydia jumps into action, tugging her side of blankets out with more ease than Allison, and practically rolling into bed.

After a few beats of silence, Allison whispers, “Your makeup’ll smear.”

Lydia only groans in response, and Allison breathes out a soft laugh before turning on her side, facing away from the other.

\--

Allison awakes with bleary eyes and a weight pressing against her back. It’s strangely comfortable, and a minute or two passes until she tiredly realizes that there’s also an arm slung across her side, one that’s not her own. And it’s sort of touching her boob.

 

Once she blinks her eyes out of their haziness, the memories come back to her, and she becomes aware of her surroundings. Specifically, she becomes aware of the soft pulses of her best friend’s breath faintly on the back of her neck. The dead weight of the other’s lazy arm that’s lying across her side, and how oddly secure and content she feels. Her eyelids flutter shut for just a few minutes, and she relishes in the quiet warmth before beginning the day that lies ahead.

An hour later, Chris' loud knocking on the girls' shared door awakens both Allison and Lydia. Lydia doesn’t mention the way they both woken up, limbs tangled and personal space forgotten, she just hazily rubs her eyes, a faint red already blooming across her cheeks, and clumsily climbs out of bed and barrels into the bathroom to ready herself for the day.

After only a short amount of time, the girls stumble out of their room and into the hallway together to greet the Argents.

Chris nods his head at the girls, asking them a seemingly rhetorical, "Ready?" before nodding with his head in the general direction of the elevators.

The checkout process takes longer than expected, and soon, the burning energy that the two girls had felt early had all but evaporated, and by the time the family finally made it into their car, they're already groaning about being hungry.

Not long after both Allison and Lydia's neverending complaints, Chris crumbles and gives in, finally pulling into the parking lot of an iHop. As the couple practically skip inside, Allison speaks of how he had lasted longer than expected.

\--

The breakfast is pleasant and comfortable, and with only a few days left of the college students' stay, the atmosphere of the conversation is relaxed. At a few points during the meal, Allison expects Lydia to knock their knees together warmly, or give her shoulder a nudge, show even a little contact. There's very little contact between the two during the meal, compared to breakfast the previous day, Lydia even went so far as to grab Allison's knee while animatedly retelling an old story of the stupidly silly antics they had gotten into while living together in an apartment.

Lydia seems to be holding back her warm gestures and temporary lack of personal space, because she doesn't really even make a move to make any contact whatsoever. Nothing else is different, she talks the same talk, engages both Allison and her parents in the usual topics, but she's simply lacking in the contact.

Allison's not stupid. She can put two and two together. It’s obvious, really. Anyone with half a brain could find the clear connection.

She knows the compromising way they had both woken up is probably freaking Lydia out, and she’s even go so far as to avoid as much contact as possible to dodge any future embarrassment. Which is a horrible, horrible idea, and Lydia should definitely stop doing that.

Although the atmosphere is relaxed, the quartet hurry through their meal, anxious to get back on the road and get back into the comfort of Beacon Hills.

They’re on their way to Beacon Hills in no time, Allison and Lyda filed into the back seats, where it’s cramped, while Victoria and Chris are sitting up front. Allison quickly comes to the conclusion that the ride is to be filled with uncomfortable sleeping positions, due to the narrow leg room, and nearly equally as uncomfortable contact with Lydia. Every time Allison switches positions in a futile attempt to get comfortable, her leg either knocks into the other’s, or her elbow manages to press into Lydia’s own arm, and in response, Lydia attempts to move away from the contact. It’s suspected that she’s trying to do so without the knowledge of the brunette, even though it’s almost painfully obvious.

Allison gives up on her constant moving, for both her tired sake and for Lydia’s horrible attempts to avoid embarrassment in favor for simply angling herself in the least uncomfortable, compromising position possible and tries to get some shuteye.

After a while, Allison finally manages to drift away to the terrible pop music her dad’s playing and her best friend’s humming along to said music.

\--

She awakes to only the quiet sound of the car moving against the surprisingly bumpy road and an aching neck.

It’s brighter than it had been when Allison had fallen asleep, and when she looks outside, only endless miles of grassy plains meet her eyes. Letting out a long yawn and stretching, careful to not bump into the sleeping form of her best friend, Allison changes her position into something less ache-inducing and leans her head against the window. She stares off into space until the window’s vibrations give her the biggest headache she’s ever had in her life. Scrunching up her face, she moves away and groans, either out of exhaustion or boredness. Lydia’s still fast asleep, unaware of the growing envy her best friend is feeling towards her for her impeccable ability to find sleep anywhere. The only other person awake in the tiny car is Allison’s dad, and all he’s doing is internally rocking out to the smooth jazz that’s playing, like the stereotypical white dad he is. Allison’s pretty sure that he doesn’t even realize that she’s awake, which is primarily based on the strange ways he’s rocking his head to the beat. He sort of looks like he’s imitating a turkey at one point, his head shooting out back at forth. That’s when Allison decides that she’s had enough, and attempts to fall back asleep.

\--

The car comes to a final halt only an hour or two later, the sudden stillness awaking Lydia. At the dawning realization that they’ve finally made it back to the house, she quickly taps Allison awake and jumps out of the car.

It’s only around noon, but the entire family is exhausted from the long drive home. There’s an unspoken agreement as each person trudges off to their own room to change and relax for a while. 

Allison practically flops on her own bed, and she breathes in the familiarity, already feeling too lazy to get up, internally weighing the pros and cons of laying on her bed and not doing anything for a few hours. First, she discards her painful flats and searches her drawers for the comfiest outfit she owns. By the time she’s all set to go, donning a light blue t-shirt and some navy yoga pants, she’s about ready to start sleeping wherever and whenever the next opportunity presents itself. She basically hops back into bed, wrapping her blanket around herself like some sort of strange cocoon.

Allison’s breathing is even, her eyes are closed, and she’s basically in her own little haven. She’s teetering on the edge of consciousness, can just feel herself slipping into sleep, and then an idea pops into her mind, and she’s no longer teetering, no longer slipping. She’s totally, definitely awake, and she hates herself for it. Grumbling the whole way, she literally rolls out of bed and finds herself walking to the guest room, where Lydia’s supposed to be staying.

She knocks softly on the door, and when no response comes from the other side, she slowly swings the door open, an air of uncertainty all around her.

Lydia is awake, lying on her temporary bed with a fairly large book in front of her. Her expression morphs from confusion to nervousness, then to her usual state of blankness, her long since perfected poker face.

Slowly shutting her book and tossing it aside, Lydia tilts her head at Allison.

“Yes?”

Allison makes her way to the bed’s side and sits on the mattress next to Lydia.

“Well, I, uh, noticed a difference in your general,” she waves her hands around a little, “stuff, and I wanted you to tell me why.” Nearly the whole time she’s talking, she’s nervously fidgeting with her hands, looking up to meet the other’s eye every once in a while, just to shoot her attention back down to her hands.

Lydia takes a deep breath and gives Allison an unamused look.

"First of all, what 'stuff' are you referencing? And second of all, there's no difference. Besides, my 'stuff' is still as perfectly intact as before."

Allison lets out an exasperated sigh, "Unless I've only now just begun overanalyzing, like, everything you do, I'm pretty sure there's a change. Hey, usually you're all touchy. Almost too touchy, and I feel weird about the incessant amount of touching we do, and then today? This morning? There's barely anything, Whenever I accidentally bump into you, or something, you instantly pull away and it's kind of beginning to become a problem. If you keep this up, they'll know."

Lydia falls silent for a few second, her eyes widening just a little as she mulls it over in her head, before she gives a simple, "Okay."

And then a second later, she repeats, "Okay. I can do this. Sorry, I guess. I'm not as good at brushing embarrassing things off as I was in high school, I guess."

Allison's features break out into a small grin. "Yeah, but to be fair, it was pretty embarrassing,"

"Wow, rude much?" Lydia scoffs jokingly, to which Allison laughs.

Standing to go back to the comfort of her own bed, Allison lingers for a few seconds longer, playing with the small bed's bedpost. "Hey," she starts hesitantly, "the wedding... It was kind of. Fun." She can feel her own cheeks heating slightly, "And I just wanna thank you for all of these things with me that typically cross a line or two, so. Thanks."

Lydia casts a look and a sincere smile at her best friend, "It was no problem. My pleasure, actually."

With that, she twirls around and exits the room hastily in a futile attempt to hide her quickly reddening cheeks, desperate to fall back asleep and leave her problems behind once again.

\--

Upon waking, Allison kind of wants to crawl into a deep, dark hole in the ground and never resurface. Staring at the blank, boring ceiling of her bedroom, she recounts what she remembers of the previous night’s conversation and the horrible, horrible way she had awkwardly worded things. Blaming the conversation on exhaustion and her general lack of filter, she internally maps out a strangely detailed plan to run away to Canada, where she plans to live among her moose brethren.

Still barely half-awake, she stumbles down the stairs and walks past her wide-awake parents, mumbling nonsense about becoming one with the moose.

\--

An hour later, the four of them are settled at the table, a heap of pancakes in front of each person, courtesy of Allison. As they dig into the meal, Lydia only hesitantly does the things she used to. Now, there’s a new cautiousness to her actions, even though she still manages to perform them.

At the beginning of the trip, the conversation was slow and always had at least a hint of awkwardness, but as Lydia and the parents settled back into their old friendships, everything went much smoother. Halfway through the breakfast, Allison gets annoyed at Lydia’s slowness and frustrating hesitance. So, she does it herself.

The longer she stalls, the more nervous she gets, so Allison basically shoves her hand on Lydia’s knee without giving herself another second to doubt herself. Lydia turns her head a little, meeting Allison’s eyes in acknowledgement, then turn back to the parents with a smile. From then on, Lydia’s accidental sleep-spooning is ignored, a silent pact to not mention it ever again.

\--

Allison’s head is resting on Lydia’s shoulder, and she doesn’t think she’s ever been even more comfortable in her entire life. She’s wearing one of five pairs of yoga pants she owns and an oversized sweatshirt and it’s great. She’s leaning mostly on Lydia, who’s reading what looks like a very long, very boring book. Every time Allison opens her mouth to complain about the lack of attention Lydia’s giving her, Lydia immediately shushes her and goes back to being a boring librarian lady for the day.

Lydia, however, embraces the warm contact that Allison’s willingly making. She checks the time with Allison, and upon finding out it’s only around 1, she yawns, closes her book with a soft thunk, and stretches her legs out a little bit, not moving from her seat. Then, she hooks an arm around Allison and mumbles something about sleep before closing her eyes. Allison also closes her eyes, humming in agreement of the amazing idea to get more sleep.

\--

With the couple’s last day in Beacon Hills nearing, they’ve already begun packing up in preparation. Chris and Victoria are more loving, hugging Lydia if she so much as walks into the room they’re already occupying. It’s not much of a bad thing, but it’s not exactly a good thing, either. The girls are both mentally preparing to go back to the horrible water pressure of their shared apartment’s shower, along with the other downsides of being in college.

When the day finally comes, the parents probably give no less than 20 hugs per girl, which is actually less than anticipated, surprisingly.

Allison and Lydia leave the home with an abundance of homemade cookies and promises of coming back soon. They file once more into the small car they had arrived in, and as they slowly make their way down the driveway and onto the street, the parents never stop their smiling and waving, and Allison can’t help but feel a pang in her chest, already feeling a little homesick.

\--

Allison drives, using the GPS as a handy guide to return the two to their apartment. Only about an hour into the drive back, with a few more to go, Allison pipes up and breaks the comfortable silence that had built up.

“Hey,” she says, sparing a look at Lydia for a few seconds before focusing her attention back on the road, “This was surprisingly nice, and I think I’d like to, y’know, do this again?”

Allison avoids looking at Lydia again, awaiting a response awkwardly.

“By ‘do this’, do you mean con your parents into thinking that we’re a thing, because if so, I’ll pass,” She answers, smirking. 

“Oh my god, wait, no. That’s definitely not what I meant, like, at all.” Allison laughs.

“Fine,” Lydia says, “Then what do you want to do again, hmm?”

Allison looks over to Lydia again, who looks right back at her with a look that makes it seem like she knows exactly what’s going on.

“Well,” she says slowly, stalling to find a good way to phrase what she’s thinking.

After a long beat of silence, Lydia says, “I’m hoping you’re planning on following that up with, like, an actual sentence.”

With a breathy, short, laugh, Allison decides to just come out and say it.“Do you kind of, maybe, want to go out sometime like this? Except, y’know, for real.” And oh god, she’s ruined it. She has completely messed this up and living together with Lydia’s going to be so horribly awkward that she’ll definitely have to go live with the Canadian moose now.

“Sure.” Lydia chirps almost immediately after.

Allison is too busy continuing her detailed plan to run away to Canada with a fake identity to realize that Lydia has, in fact, responded positively.

“What? Wait, what? Are you, like, completely serious?” She asks, somewhat bewildered.

Lydia slowly nods her head slowly when prompted, internally reevaluating her choice of best friends.

“You mean we could’ve been dating, like, this whole time, for realsies?”

Lydia refrains from throwing her hands up in the air and shouting nonsense into the abyss, and instead simply rolls her eyes at Allison and responds with, “Yes, Ally. We can date for realsies.”

Allison doesn’t give a reply, just smiles at Lydia, her eyes crinkling up as she does so.

The rest of the trip is comfortable, Lydia humming along to each new song playing on the radio, and Allison constantly beaming, even more excited to get back to the shared apartment and the seemingly endless days ahead of them.


End file.
